


Distraction

by Yalu



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Food Poisoning, Humor, Sickfic, hurt/comfort bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:36:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3158006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yalu/pseuds/Yalu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoë's down with food poisoning. Wash entertains her while she suffers through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

"You know," Wash said, "it could be worse."

Zoë cracked open an eyelid; the other half of her face was buried in her pillow. She tightened the blanket around her neck (useless, with fever chills) and glared. "Remind me exactly how, husband."

"You could have diarrhoea," he said cheerfully. "See? Says so right here." He pointed to the small screen by the bed. "'Common cases of food poisoning usually include abdominal pain-'"

"Check."

"'-mild fever-'"

"Check."

"Will you be interrupting me a lot? I need to know so I can stop talking."

She smiled and pinched her lips closed.

He cleared his throat and continued: "'Nausea, _diarrhoea_ , vomiting, weakness, headaches.'" He frowned. "Do you have vomiting? I'm not seeing vomiting here." He leaned over, sniffed her breath, then started checking under the bunk.

Zoë laughed. "Not yet. Think we're winning on that one."

"Huh. I should probably..." he flapped his hands, looking around "...get a bucket."

"Mmnno, stay," said Zoë. Then she winced, curling up tighter around the pain in her guts. "Doc said the meds'd clear it up soon."

"Not soon enough," he said sympathetically, serious now. "Anything I can do?"

"Stay," said Zoë, stretching out her hand for his, but she paused, then pulled it back under the covers. "Distract me."

"That, I can do." Wash grinned and settled on the floor beside the bunk, twisting so he could lean his head on the edge next to her pillow. "So... no geese, sorry. My juggling days are over anyway. I could sing you Jayne's song..."

Zoë frowned. "Jayne wrote a song?"

"Wrote, not so much. _The he-ro of Canton, the man they call... Jayne!_ "

" _Bi zui!_ Anything else."

He thought about it. "I could read you poetry?"

"We don't have any."

" _My_ poetry!" he exclaimed, wounded. "How could you forget _Autumn Flower_? The poem I'll read at your funeral? Which, y'know, you're pretty close to..."

She mimed smacking him. He ducked. 

"It's appropriate. Autumn's when everything starts to fall off trees and rot, and that's pretty much what happened with those berries-"

The door chime went off. Sluggishly, Zoë hit the intercom button. "Yeah?"

_"Uh... I can come in?"_

They rolled their eyes. Cap'n only ever asked if he was feeling guilty about something. (Or if he was risking walking in on folks having sex. Or feeling guilty about walking in on folks having sex. That happened.) "Of course, sir. Door's open."

The hatch clanged and Mal's boots appeared on the top rungs. He was going slow, carrying a tray. "You brought me lunch?" Zoë hauled herself up to sit. "Really think that's a good idea right now?"

Mal climbed off the last rung and turned, careful-like. "Eh, should be fine. We're in the quiet stretch of black now and River's at the helm just in case- Oh, you meant eating." He leaned over and handed her the tray. It was a piece of old hull they'd kept for patching, roughly cut with the edges sanded, and someone - Kaylee - had welded little legs to the sides so it fit over her lap without tipping. Mal stepped back. "Doc says this should be light and bland enough for you to keep down."

It didn't smell bad, either. Wash poked his head up and snuck one hand toward the bread - probably last of their real stuff from Persephone - but winked when she glanced at him and settled back down.

Zoë still hesitated. "Sir," she said pointedly, hands still beside the tray, "did you _make_ me lunch? Again?"

"No fruit in it! We spaced 'em." She narrowed her eyes. He shuffled for about four seconds before he said, "Inara made it. I supervised."

Wash rolled his eyes. Mal couldn't see it, so Zoë stifled her chuckle and scooped up some soup. Mal watched anxiously until she swallowed and judged it, "Not bad."

He grinned broadly. Zoë dipped the spoon in again as Mal turned, but instead of leaving, he pulled over a crate she used as a seat. She paused, puzzled. "Something wrong?"

"Huh? No," said Mal, shrugging. "Just thought I'd stick around. You, uh..." He looked sombre. "You shouldn't be alone."

She looked at Wash, who smiled at her gently, warm and happy and ignoring the bloody hole through his chest. He poked his hand through the metal of the bunk frame and gaped in mock-shock at his 'missing' limb, because it always made her smile.

Zoë looked up. "I'm never alone, sir."

**Author's Note:**

>  _Bi zui_ means "shut up" according to [these](http://wiki.rpg.net/index.php/Firefly_chinese_slang) [sources](http://firefly009.weebly.com/chinese-curses.html). Others disagree or have spelling variations, and GoogleTranslate is no help at all...
> 
> I leave it to you to decide between ghost, hallucination, or Zoë choosing to imagine him.


End file.
